


Red Wedding

by shipcat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood, Dark Humor, Hidan being horrible, It doesn’t work, Kakuzu low-key drowns Hidan, Kakuzu not taking his shit, M/M, Violence, fantasies of aggressive sex, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/pseuds/shipcat
Summary: Kakuzu finds himself covered in blood and married to a jackass. Servants die. Kakuzu wishes he were dead. Chaos ensues.





	Red Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Collaboration fic with me and my talented friend! Posted for KakuHidaWeek 2018.
> 
> Hidan by [thatshipcat ](https://thatshipcat.tumblr.com/)and Kakuzu by akatzombie (SinIxto on AO3 <3).

* * *

The wedding bell rang with the same finality of a funeral toll. There, in the middle of the manor, stood the unhappy couple—a pike driven through their chests, skin covered in the cursed marks of Jashin. One injury, one death, one imperfect union between the tyrannical Lord Kakuzu and the traveling priest Hidan, gifted to him from a unknown duke of a foreign land. Servants stood idly by, unsure if they should throw rice in celebration, for it seemed to them that both grooms were certainly doomed to die. **  
**

The noble stared down at the fatal wound in disbelief, heart beating five times faster around the the wooden shard, each pulse pushing splinters into the spongy carotid tissue. Shakily, a hand rose up to clench the spike—gold wedding band thick and freckled with red specks of blood—snapping the weapon in two.

_“What did you do?!”_

Now it was Hidan’s turn to stare in disbelief.

“Don’t look at me, you’re the first fucker that actually survived the damn ceremony.”

“Are you telling me that this _bullshit_ was supposed to kill me the whole damn time? This marriage— _you_ were an attempt on my life?”

Hidan looked to the left, then looked to the right at the servants, shock fading away in favor of an easy laugh. His arms unfolded to the side, pike bouncing up as he shrugged. “Surprise?”

Every part of Kakuzu wanted to uproot that land of Hidan’s and crush it under his fist. But instead he dropped Hidan on his ass, laughing a very unsettling laugh.

He shouldn’t have survived. Yet here he was.

“You _failed_.”

Hidan glared up at his new husband, adorned with gold and silk and other symbols of avarice, half of a splintered pike protruding out the front of his suit; the other half, black and slick with blood, sticking out of Hidan. According to doctrine, Kakuzu shouldn’t have survived, but… his anger faded into amusement, and Hidan let out a victorious smirk of his own.

“Ha! Did I, though?” He plucked the pike out of himself. “Jashin does not make mistakes,” he reminded Kakuzu, waving the weapon condescendingly.

Kakuzu grabbed the end of the pike in his chest, his eyes drawn to something about his skin. His dark tone had grown darker, white strips highlighting the bones on his hands, his arms…

This wasn’t some joke. This wasn’t a prop. There was actually a pike sticking through his heart, and as he pulled it free a sense of something much larger than himself overwhelmed him. Like the eyes of some true evil were boring into the back of his skull.

Kakuzu dropped the pike in front of his husband, who caught the pike mid-air, twirling around his arm with practiced ease, before tossing it to the side.

“What the hell is happening?” Kakuzu demanded, towering over Hidan. “What is this? Who is Jashin?”

Hidan rested his own weapon on a white, collar shape on the back of his neck. He cocked his hip, sneering condescendingly as he met the other’s angry look.

“You’re seriously that stupid?” He did not wait for Kakuzu to answer. “Fine. Jashin is God, and these—” he thrust a thumb at the monochrome patterns on their skin, “are the marks of his servants, and you, my dear husband, are now immortal.”

Immortal.

_Immortal._

The word resonated in his skull like someone had hit a gong inches from his ear. They’d tricked him— no. He had been too greedy. Too ready to have Hidan as a symbol of his wealth and power, he’d walked willingly into a trap, and by extension joined a fucking cult.

Oops of the century. But if they were both Immortal, then…

Kakuzu lifted his foot and kicked Hidan square in the jaw, his anger coming right back to him in full force. Rage tore at him for just how right Hidan was. He had been stupid. And without another word, he made for his room.

“Ow!” Hidan’s neck snapped back at the blow. He quickly recovered, spitting blood on the ground. He set his head back into place with a sickening crack. “What the hell was that for, huh? That seriously _hurt_ , you asshole—hey, I’m not done here!”

He chased after Kakuzu, elbowing several servants out of his way. “Oi. Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you. Are you even paying attention to me? We haven’t even consummated our marriage yet! Hey. Hey. _Hey_!”

Hidan definitely wasn’t the gift they had been selling him up to be. He was clearly obnoxious. Oh and how Kakuzu could feel the beginning of a headache blooming behind his eyes. He had signed the rest of his immortal life up to be married to him.

“This?” Kakuzu whirled around, turning on Hidan while stepping into his personal space. “This. Us. We aren’t happening you delusional, loud mouthed, prick. There is no way I’m consummating this marriage with you. Not now. Not ever. We’re done talking. I’m walking away now.”

He turned again with every intention of leaving. How does one un-cult themselves from… _this_? Was an annulment even an option? Clearly this pact was much more profound than a legal binding between nations. _Something_. had just happened to him and he could feel it under his skin.

“Damn.” Hidan, surprisingly, went quiet, recalling how little his husband knew about Jashinist traditions, specifically, the rules governing marriage.

He let Kakuzu pace a couple steps before speaking again, sly teeth brimming just under his lips. “Then die. If that’s what you want.”

“Sounds great,” Kakuzu hissed. No damn way he was playing any more into whatever this guy said to him. He had been jerked around enough. Mostly, he just wanted to get a stiff drink and to lay in the dark for a couple of hours.

Weren’t people supposed to be happy about getting married?

“Why don’t you go acquaint yourself with the yards? And stay out there. In fact keep going. Walk until you’re back in your own land.”

“As if,” Hidan scoffed. “You lived, we’re wed, and I’m staying. Not that I’m exactly tickled about it, either,” he added, now following so closely that he nearly stepped on Kakuzu’s heels. “Trust me. If I could die, I would. But when life gives you lemons, you gotta say fuck it and make lemonade—be positive and shit, y'know? Like. Uh.”

He paused, tilting his head in thought. He didn’t care to explore his husband’s shitty ‘yards,’ taking his wealth or abusing his power. Jashin had always provided all that Hidan had ever needed. What could his husband possibly give Hidan that he did not already have?

His gaze slid over Kakuzu’s back, eyes lingering over an ivory vertebrae pattern detailed with sharp, red marks: A sign of great strength, and little mercy. Hidan’s mouth went dry.

“Like. Just for example. The mark of Jashin doesn’t look half-bad on you.”

Kakuzu stopped then. Had his new husband just complimented him? He paused and let this settle in. His anger slowly dissipated into a simmering annoyance. Hidan seemed to be trying to… comfort…? Him?

“Just what are you getting at?” Kakuzu asked, looking Hidan up and down. Despite himself, he had to admit that Hidan was very attractive. The two of them together were pretty damn impressive. Looking like this, as a pair, they could strike fear into the hearts of anyone. But was his husband even trustworthy?

“Didn’t you want me dead a minute ago?”

Hidan laughed nervously. It had certainly sounded that way, didn’t it? “No, no! I didn’t say that. What I meant was, ah—” He rubbed the back of his head as recalled the little white lie where he had implied that Kakuzu would die if they didn’t go through with the marriage. “—forget about it! Jashin wants you alive, so I do too. Divine will and all that.” Hidan flapped his hand dismissively. “As for why I’m interested…”

He had killed dozens like this. Merchants. Slavers. Bishops. Kings. But, the tyrant Lord, for all his many faults, was the first to survive. There had to be a reason. There was always a reason, always a design, and it was up to Hidan to figure it out. But it was hard to think, now, with Kakuzu staring at him so intensely, looking as if he wanted to kick his teeth in, or do something more.

“…you could say I’m curious about you,” Hidan finally concluded, “just like you’re curious about the fellow that 'gave’ me to you.”

So they wanted him dead. It wasn’t really surprising. A lot of people wanted him dead, and that was a fact he was willing to live with. You don’t really live until you’ve made a mass amount of enemies and need guards to watch your back while you sleep. This was different though. The outcome of this attempt had left him with a husband; at least they could agree that they were curious about one another.

“Go clean yourself up,” he demanded. “Then maybe we’ll talk. I don’t know, we’ll see if I’m in a forgiving mood about you trying to murder me on our wedding day.”

So much for spending the night like he’d planned. Despite having a reputation as a tyrant, Kakuzu had actually planned something quite nice for his new husband. He’d set aside some drink, and had his servants prepare a meal. Even his room was nicely outfitted for the evening. If they were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together, Kakuzu had wanted to get to know Hidan. Maybe even like him. Or love him. Now, that was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Right. You got a bath I can borrow?” He peeled up the collar of his ivory ceremonial robe, stiff and coarse with blood, to look at the wound underneath. He wrinkled his nose. “And a change of clothes.”

As for Hidan, for whom marriage had never been a possibility, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. His wedding night plans had primarily consisted of killing his would-be spouse, praying, swiping some dinner from the kitchen and making a clean getaway if able, a massacre if not. He never had to deal with the consequences of his actions before tonight: Always the widow, never the wife—or however the saying went.

That he had only gone after the cruelest, and Kakuzu had offered him a second chance… something was different here. He could tell.

But that was something to pray over after he had gotten rid of the cursed marks and performed his ablutions.

Speaking of cursed marks—

Kakuzu looked at his hands, turning them over to observe the change in his skin once more. An unimpressed look planted firmly upon his face, he wondered to himself quite how long this look would last on him. He didn’t bother to ask.

“The servants will draw you a bath and clothe you, just tell them what you want. Anyone dressed in green, I suppose. And if they disobey you, kill them.” Cruel, perhaps, but that was how Kakuzu operated. Disobedience was not an option. Betrayal was a death sentence.

“They will direct you to our room once you’re done with your wash.” They would still be sleeping side by side, he supposed. If he was going to humiliate the land that gave him Hidan, he thought perhaps the best way to do so was to tame him and show off his prize. They no longer had their trump card to destroy people with. He now belonged to Kakuzu, and for that he was at least a little proud. Not even this supposed god would stop him.

“Don’t be too long, _dear_ ,” he growled menacingly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, _honey_ ,” Hidan retorted, spinning on his heels and scampering away before Kakuzu could retaliate. He managed to find a servant back the way they came, scrubbing at a bloodtrail. There was a moment where they froze: her staring horrified at his ghastly appearance and him sneering at the color of her clothes - green, the same shade of his husband’s eyes. Like money. Or jade. Or the grassy plains of his homelands, just before the first frost.

How _vain_ , he thought to himself, tapping his foot impatiently. She quickly scrambled to her feet and bowed, twisting her fingers together as she stuttered out an apology.

“I don’t care,” Hidan snapped out an order for a bath and a fresh robe, then crossed his arms to watch her scurry away.

_“…if they disobey, kill them.”_

Kakuzu obviously did not care about his staff. If one or two servants were to disappear, no one would even notice.

***

The night in Kakuzu’s home was demandingly silent. The servants weren’t to speak unless spoken to, even amongst themselves. Though they were poorly treated, they would be well provided for. It was easier to keep up on the health of staff than constantly purchase new servants.

Kakuzu allowed his women to bathe him and wash away the ghastly blood. When asked what to do with his clothing, Kakuzu told them to burn the robes. He didn’t care to ever see them again, and hopefully his husband would run off as suggested too. What a fucking nightmare.

After he was done with his bath, Kakuzu wrapped himself in a deep blue silken robe, and practically dragged his heels to his bedroom. The smell of lavender lingered on his skin from the bath, said to offer a peaceful sleep and relief to headaches.

If only.

He paused outside, exhaled slowly through his nose, and entered the room with all the presence of a King. Whether Hidan was there or not, he owned every room he entered, and he would make it clear.

***

Hidan was not in Kakuzu’s quarters. He had shooed away the servants to bathe himself, and was now lounging on the edge of the tub, clean and sniffing at bottles of aromatic oils. The pike lay just next to him, seeming almost innocent now that it was not stained with the blood of his husband.

“Sandalwood?” Sweet and woody, it was like incense sometimes used in his rituals. He dumped the entire thing into the pinkened suds, figuring more was better.

“Rose?” Probably an aphrodisiac. It smelled expensive. Hidan poured that in too.

“Cardamom and fennel?” Like the spicy tea? How exotic. Into the water it went.  
By the time that the servants brought him a clean set of robes, the room had become so thick with perfume that they had to hold their breath.

Hidan pointed to a servant, the nearest. “Hey, you. Can you come—erm—” His face scrunched as he tried to think of an excuse. “Scratch my back? Pretty please?”

There was a moment where the staff looked at each other in confusion, before, wordlessly, the chosen servant wordlessly approached him, eyes turned down towards the ground and rolling up his sleeves. The rest fled the room, glad to be away from their lord’s odd spouse and his strange, death-like appearance.

The servant had not gotten within two feet of the bathing man when he felt a sharp pain in his foot. He looked up to see Hidan licking blood off of the forgotten pike, then pointing the sharp end to his own chest. The servant stared, dumbfounded, as he felt a strange mixture of emotions flood through him—the joy of Hidan, and the irritation of Kakuzu, still waiting for his husband to appear.

Hidan disregarded the feeling, turning his eyes upwards, pointing the pike towards his chest—

“The condition has been met,” he announced to the ceiling, rearing his arm back before stabbing down.

Hidan destroyed everything he touched. It was a role he was quite fond of.

***

It wasn’t often that Kakuzu participated in hedonism. Rarely did he get the time. That evening, he laid out on his back unable to rest as he turned his hand over, and then back again. The marks still wouldn’t disappear. The feeling of being watched wouldn’t disappear either, and it would be a good while before he would be able to find some reading material on such an obscure religion, nevermind reading material that would be reliable enough to get information from. He supposed that was by design of their agreement. To spring upon him a ceremony he knew nothing about so as to trap him, and then murder him.

If they knew how this immortality worked, then they wouldn’t dare try again. They had a pact now, after all. Going back on that treaty between them would mean trouble, even for someone with his connections. To break an agreement like this would reflect poorly on deals he tried to make with other nations. There would be no relying on him to keep his end of things. Then where would he be? Nowhere useful.

Slowly, the feeling of being watched faded away from him, and Kakuzu opened his eyes, not realizing when he had closed them. He sat up to see that his feet had returned to their usual brown. It was done then. His body still felt… different. Not something he could describe. It wasn’t something he was eager to try and get used to.

“Back to normal, eh, Kakuzu?“

The smell of something potent roused him from the doze he’d managed to attain, and Kakuzu forced himself to sit up and stare at his dear husband. Had he used water in his bath? Or just the oils? He wrinkled his nose and lifted a hand to push back the hair that had fallen in his face. 

“You aren’t getting in my bed smelling like that,” Kakuzu informed him harshly. “You can sleep on the floor.”

Hidan chose that moment to become partially deaf. “Get in the bed? Don’t mind if I do.” 

He shrugged out of his sleeves and let the robe fall to his waist, then threw himself onto the mattress, bouncing as he made himself comfortable. He turned to Kakuzu and blatantly observed him, noting that his normal bronze skin suited him just as much as the Mark of Jashin, though he would never admit it. He did not notice what effect this observation had on his husband, if any at all.

Hidan was well aware of what usually happened when two people shared a bed, but this was the first time that he had ever spent the night with anyone, married or not. Usually he slept in hostels, abandoned shrines quickly dedicated to the church of Jashin, and the occasional stable, when he was on the run. None of those places were decent for fucking anything other than a hand—or, at least, not as good as this house, this bed, this man.   
Probably it would feel great. Right?

Though he heard it was supposed to hurt—then get better?

Pain with a purpose was okay. Though Kakuzu seemed a bit large…

Nerves and excitement aside, none of this mattered, because he expected to be kicked out of the bed soon enough. Hidan had made himself undesirable and Kakuzu clearly stated what he felt about it. This trip to the bed was nothing more than an exercise in learning what made his husband tick, and how far Hidan could push him.

He wanted to rip Hidan’s spine out. Rip it out and then use it as an instrument to beat him with. That would be favorable for a religion that seemed to value violence above all else right?

The scent of Hidan being so close to him was completely overwhelming. Kakuzu felt his eyes water, and he reached up to cover his nose with one hand. This would not stand. He used his free hand to grab his husband and drag him off of the bed before his scent stained the sheets, if it hadn’t already. Then, with a forceful gait, he dragged Hidan out the door and into the hall, searching for the nearest servant.

"Draw him a bath,” Kakuzu demanded, as soon as he saw somebody in green. “Quickly. The water need not be warm. Do NOT put a scent in it.”

Kakuzu kept am iron grip on his husband, and turned to face him with all the anger and ferocity of a storm.

“If you’re too dense to do something such as bathe yourself, I’ll have to do it for you.“

 _“What!”_ Hidan jerked back, attempting to squirm away from the hold. “You gotta be shitting me—nope! Nuh-uh! No way am I gonna let you treat me like a fucking child!” He became more and more flustered as they approached the bathroom. _“Ow!_ Be gentle, _gentle!”_

Underneath his protests, however, was a shiver of delight. He imagined Kakuzu bathing with him, and his face turned redder; thought of, briefly, the lord gripping Hidan’s throat, and shoving him under the water—bubbles streaming to the surface, screaming as they popped.

The last fantasy was more domestic—a flash of himself, back flush against a dark chest, as Kakuzu worked up a lather in Hidan’s hair. Warm and intimate, the domestic scene was far more intimidating than his more morbid fantasies.

By the time they arrived at the washroom, Hidan was a deep crimson color, still struggling against Kakuzu. “Fine, fine! I’ll do it myself! No oils, no tricks! Just — just let go of me already!”

As much as he _wanted_ to hold Hidan’s head under the water until the bubbles stopped, he definitely knew it wouldn’t work in silencing him forever. As much as he would like it to. He fantasized for a brief moment that Hidan had been found already bloating and dead in his bath by one of the servants.

It was like he didn’t hear Hidan. He simply pulled him to the tub of water and pushed him into it, ripping the clothes off as he did so.

"You had a chance to bathe yourself and you proved irresponsible when doing so. Not to mention the amount of oils you must have wasted to smell like _that_. I’m not going anywhere. Now _wash_.” Kakuzu stood, towering over Hidan, crossing his arms over his chest. The servants scrambled to get towels and clothes ready for the Lord’s husband all over again, darting to grab the ripped garments on the floor.

“Make sure you clean those unsightly wounds of yours so you don’t get an infection.“

”Unsightly?!” Hidan sputtered and shivered as the cold water sloshed about his body. _“Unsightly?!?_ Stigmatas aren’t fucking ugly, you—“

A servant handed him a washcloth, which he absentmindedly accepted, too busy glowering at Kakuzu.

“—ass! Now listen! Listen here, because I’m only gonna say this once: These are the wounds of a martyr, and they deserve _respect!”_ He finished with a huff, slightly out of breath from the tirades.

At this point, Hidan noticed the washcloth in his hand, as well as the crowd of eyes—that of the lord and his servants—weighing upon him heavily. He scowled, opened his mouth to say something, then bit his tongue.

Kakuzu… had a point, didn’t he? Even Hidan was starting to get a headache from the excessive fumes, and he did not want to get infected—immortality or not, no one wanted gangrene. That shit was just nasty.

Grumbling, Hidan sank into the water and began to roughly scrub himself from his head to his toes, demanding that the servants bring him a fresh cloth for his injuries, which he saved for last. These Hidan handled with more care, hissing as he pulled apart the stab wounds to slowly pour water inside, then drying it with the clean cloth.

The second wound—the smaller, fresher one—had now begun to close, while the first—from the wedding—appeared not to have healed at all. It was pink, visibly irritated at the sharp edges. If one peered into the shadowy hole, they would notice a soft, quick movement of his heart, darkly beating.

Hidan frowned as he washed this one, his touch now reverent, pleading. It was not often that he asked Jashin to be healed, but this time he did.

These were the wounds of a martyr, after all; and they deserved respect.

He could not care any less about what Hidan was going on about. The wounds, the whole deal about being a martyr. It was pretty clear that Hidan thought pretty highly of himself, and it would be hypocritical of him to admonish him for that kind of behavior… even if he found this particular brand of self confidence rather irritating. The only reaction he would give his husband was a slowly raised eyebrow, and arms crossed over his chest where his own open wound was patched with bandages.

He could feel it. The way Hidan treated that wound. It was an odd sensation in his own chest… But there was something else. Like for just a second, Hidan’s emotion was intense enough that Kakuzu could feel it as well. And then, it was gone. This would be the first time Kakuzu looked at Hidan with any sort of interest.

He fixated on the gored part of Hidan’s chest, then crouched at the side of the bath. With a fluid movement, he grabbed Hidan’s wrist again and moved his hand away from the wound to thoroughly inspect it.

Maybe they wouldn’t heal… or couldn’t heal… until the two of them became one in their marriage. How unfortunate.

"Tell me how this ceremony is supposed to go if your partner survives. What then?”

Hidan snatched his hand back and tried to deflect the question. “Oh, _now_ you give a crap about our vows! What happened to ‘there’s no way I’m fucking you’? Hmm? Or ‘leave and don’t come back?’”

He ranted on, listing his husband’s faults, which ranged from “ungrateful, intolerant jerk” to “scary huge.” Behind him, a crowd of servants stared wide-eyed at the floor, trying desperately to pretend they were deaf, dumb, and mute.

Kakuzu scowled at Hidan and tried to wait through the barrage of insults, only to get impatient half way through. His hand shot out to grip Hidan by the throat, forcing his head under the water. He held it there for a long moment, ignoring the feeling in the back of his throat like it was hard to breathe. When he brought his husband back up for air, he pushed his fingers into that pale skin enough to bruise.

“Answer me. Tell me what we were supposed to do next, and perhaps you’ll leave this room in one piece.”

Hidan wheezed for breath, chest fluttering in his chest cavity. He wanted to spit at Kakuzu, but all he could manage to do was snap his teeth viciously.

He was angry—furious, even—so much so that his vision blurred and darkened around the edges. He hated his husband for surviving and himself for being immortal and all of the dozens of servants that nervously watched on.

Hidan wanted to kill them all; and, for the first time in his life, Jashin was not the reason why. His hands itched with rage and he needed to take it out on something. Someone. And the anger, which was never so strong, never so long-lasting, multiplied and fed upon itself, until all he knew was malice.

When at last he gathered enough strength, Hidan bucked at the grip and clawed at his husband’s dirty green eyes—only to growl in frustration to find that he was just out of reach. 

If murder was not an option, then he had no choice but to answer his dear husband.

“Idiot,” Hidan hissed, without thinking. “Isn’t it fucking obvious…it’s our wedding night—we screw.”

That was the last thing Kakuzu wanted to do tonight. He definitely didn’t want to have sex with Hidan. Ever. Before they’d tried to kill him, he definitely had been thinking about it. The amount of fury and rage inside of Hidan though, that was definitely… something. It was something that he would remember for the future. He could see how, if there was some sort of supernatural force at work, the two of them would have made a good pair.

“And then?” He gripped Hidan’s throat a little tighter. “These wounds in our chest. Do they heal? Or is it a mark that we’re going to have to deal with for the rest of our miserable lives together? The rest of eternity, if we really are immortal.”

Hidan let out a strangled chuckle. “Hell….ha, hell if I know.”

Kakuzu’s face went dark.

“You… don’t… know…?”

Hidan gulped.

And, for the rest of the night, the manor was filled with his screams—some pleasured, some not.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey! If you enjoyed reading it, please leave a kudos or comment below :3


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